


In Light as in the Dark

by TuskFM



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Children Death, M/M, POV Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Pre-Canon, not sure how to tag that but it's mild, very light andy x quynh at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuskFM/pseuds/TuskFM
Summary: They sit in silence for a long time, and Yusuf feels like a fool for trying to clean Nicolo’s skin like that. He lets go of his hand, let it rest on his own lap. That gets Nicolo’s attention, who turns his gaze on him, and oh did he miss him, even if he was gone for barely half a day.“Are you alright?”“I’m here.” Yusuf says, unable to think of anything else. He does not wish to lie to Nicolo.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 240





	In Light as in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> When I think of the Old Guards, I imagine it took them time to become who we see in the movie, at least many decades, if not a century or two to fully become who they are, find themselves. I wanted to explore how they deal with loss, failure, etc. I also wanted an excuse to write Joe and Nicky being soft with each other.

The water is warm, Yusuf thinks as he kneels beside Nicolo in the oasis. The sun is still high in the sky, though it started its descend a while ago. There will still be light for a few hours before the night settle in. The oasis is small, but there’s water, and shade, and they have their bags full of provision from the town. It’ll be enough.

He shed Nicolo’s armor and shirt, but he left him his trousers, out of practicality. They can’t afford to be surprised in nude. Not with Nicolo’s state. He mounted down his horse a moment too late for their rest to be their usual. The blood coating their tattered clothes wouldn’t let Yusuf forget that.

Silently, Nicolo let Yusuf guide him down to the oasis, out of his clothes, into the cove, sitting over the rocks and sand. He did not spare a glance at him, gaze fixed at some form in front of him. Yusuf can’t blame him. He does wish he was there with Nicolo though. Out of this world and into this head of his, not alone.

He cups some water in his hand and bring his palm up to Nicolo’s shoulder, to his back and let the water trickle down his skin, washing away the blood along. He rubs with his fingers, make sure there’s not a bit of skin left dirty. It would be easier with a cup, better if he could let Nicolo stand in the river to his neck and just rub away. But Nicolo is too far in his head right now, and that will have to do.

Yusuf ignores the shakes in his hands, his wrists, his everything. He focuses on the task, try to not think about it. Tries not to think about the blood, the violence, the feeling that curls deep in his stomach, uncomfortable and heavy. He was witness to many absurd acts that defy human nature, but they never came close to what happened this day.

He tries to wash his hair, and it’s easy, the fine strands easily let the water soak them, and with gently rubbing the blood leave the blond color to shine. Nicolo doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. Yusuf wonders where he’s gone. Wants to bring him back.

He hums lullabies from home, he tries his best at Nicolo’s Christian chants too, he weaves words and names and feelings all along his hands over his skin. He sings because as long as there’s music, there’s life, and they are both alive. So they must keep the music loud in their heart. It can’t go out. He whispers his love only for him to hear and busy his mind with the blood that stains Nicolo’s hands.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally turns his head toward Yusuf, eyes trying to look at him but glossing over his face again and again.

“Yusuf…” He says, under his breath, and the fist of iron finally free Yusuf’s heart from its grip. He sighs, long and slow.

“I’m here Nicolo. I’m here. I’m with you.”

“Yusuf.” He says again, then frown. “The children.”

“They died.” He says, as gently as you can deliver such news. They thought they could do some good. They got into town at dawn, making a pause in their journey when a woman saw their blades at their side and begged them for help. Raiders found her village and took the children with them. Nicolo listened to her, and Yusuf offered their horses and services to go free the children.

They arrived at the abandoned home to see Christian heretics, who in the name of their god damned the people of Jerusalem for their dead. They could only watch as the last child died from his sliced throat.

“No.” Nicolo says, and the pain in his voice makes his breath whistle. “No, no.”

“We arrived too late.” They made their way out, somehow, through the rogue knights, Nicolo leading the way and Yusuf making sure no one followed them. It’s good they packed more than one shirt, because there’s not much left of theirs.

Yusuf left to get the woman at her village, letting Nicolo stand guard at the old house, making sure no one would trespass before the parents, so they could decide what would be done to the bodies of the murderers. Nicolo stood straight, wordless, sword in hand as Yusuf rode as fast as he could to the village. The woman did not comment on the state of his body, but it was clear their stay would no longer be welcomed. Quietly, Yusuf gave Nicolo his horse’s bridle and they left, riding to the closest oasis on their map.

“They are with their parents.” Yusuf says, and he watches as the unnatural stillness of his face is washed by pain and sorrow.

They sit in silence for a long time, and Yusuf feels like a fool for trying to clean Nicolo’s skin like that. He lets go of his hand, let it rest on his own lap. That gets Nicolo’s attention, who turns his gaze on him, and oh did he miss him, even if he was gone for barely half a day.

Nicolo pauses his breath, look around him. His eyes take everything in, the oasis, the water, how they’re sitting. He slowly looks at Yusuf, his still clothed body, still bloody. His voice has lost its edge when he speaks.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m here.” Yusuf says, unable to think of anything else. He does not wish to lie to Nicolo.

“Yusuf, your hair.” He murmurs, pale finger closing around his wrist and pulling Yusuf to stand up with him. Yusuf drags a hand through his locks and finds them coated in blood. He must have fallen harder than he remembers when the knight hit him with the hilt of his sword.

Nicolo free him of his clothes, his tunic and shirt and trousers, let them fall on the near bank before walking deeper in the cove with him. The water is cool against his skin, soothing his mind. Slowly, he pushes Yusuf so his shoulders are covered too, and with the same gentleness as his, Nicolo brings water to his hair and wash away the blood and sweat and horror. 

There’s no words between them, only touches. Yusuf rest his fingers around Nicolo’s arm, closing his eyes as he feels the muscles move under the skin, real, alive. That seems to bring forth something inside him. He tries to wipe the tears quietly, ashamed of his reaction, but they don’t seem to stop, following their first sister down his face, slow and warm.

“They’re all dead, Nicolo.” He says in his own language, can’t help but leave the Italian behind as his heart swells in his chest, feeling more than he allowed himself to. Nicolo gently cradle him against his chest, still cool with water. “They were children. Young, innocent. How could one-” he stops himself and finally allows his body to respond to the embrace. He feels his spine bow as he joins his arms around Nicolo’s back.

“I’ve seen war.” He says because he did. They both did. “This isn’t pay back. This isn’t justice or vengeance. This is evil. This is wrong, so wrong.” Yusuf can’t help but think back to his family now long gone, to their travel. He knew of dangerous people, of course he did. But children could run through the street without fear of being slaughtered like animals. He thinks of his father who would always buy more bread than they needed to leave for the less fortunate on their way and try to imagine a world where his kind would cohabit with the monsters they encountered this day.

He thinks of him and Nicolo, of their God, their countries and their faith, who despite the ocean that separate their lands have more in common than not, and tries to understand how such vile men could live in a world like theirs, one of love and creation.

“There must be an evil for us to right it.” Nicolo, ever the knight he once was offer him. The Arabic falls from his tongue easily, fluid, less and less tainted by his accent as the decades go by. “There’s no light without shade. But we do not fear the night, for we have fire. There’s love Yusuf, and good in the world. And we can make sure it stays brightly lit.”

Over the years shared, Nicolo seemed to have picked some things from Yusuf’s poetry. He pulls back from their embrace and lay a hand on Nicolo’s cheek, thumb hovering his lips, and he loses himself in the ocean of his eyes before he speaks again.

“Next time, we’ll do right. We’ll do better.” Yusuf swears, as much for him and Nicky as for his God who despite all he’s done is still looking down upon him, gracing him with the knowledge that he won’t ever have to face the world alone, neither in its beauty nor ugliness.

As they lie down next to their fire that night, both of them too upset to sleep but too tired to ride, Yusuf hopes he can soon catch dreams of those women again, watch as they ride as one, like them, two intertwined together.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr where I’m currently on a The Old Guard frenzy, if you ever wanna stop by [@salzundhonig](https://salzundhonig.tumblr.com/)


End file.
